Catastrophic luck
by ForIdiots
Summary: Harry Potter's luck is so bad, it can't be described with anything but catastrophic. Permanently polyjuiced into a girl, turned into a horcrux and sent back in time, Harry tries to make the best of the situation. This story takes some common plot devices, tropes and cliches, but tries to handle them in a humoristic and self-aware manner. More of a crackfic than anything else.
1. Chapter 1

There is good luck, bad luck, worse luck and the worst luck.

Good luck is randomly stumbling over the hideout of the dark wizard you've been searching for months and killing him before he has the chance to draw his wand.

Bad luck is grabbing the nearest pain relief-potion, only to find out that it was polyjuice-potion with the hair of a muggle girl the dark wizard had kidnapped and tortured to death.

Worse luck is stumbling because of your shrinking legs, falling onto the corpse of the dead wizard and accidentally completing his horcrux-ritual that way.

Worst luck is binding your soul via the horcrux-ritual to the nearest object, which happens to be the time-turner around your neck.

Catastrophic luck is all of this happening in short order and you dying as a result of the heart-attack you got from realizing what just happened.

* * *

 _ **[Chapter 1]** About chosing one's name_

Harry crashed into the ground face first. His nose broke with a sickening crunch and his glasses shattered, piercing parts of his face and his eyes with the shards. He lay on the ground, howling in pain, so focused on the throbbing feeling of the deep numb pain that he didn't notice the people in knockturn alley turning around, curiously looking at the bleeding person lying on the ground.

Contrary to popular believe most shoppers in knockturn weren't dark, most simply enjoyed the cheaper prices which came from many shops taking the taxation more as a guideline than a binding law. And thus Harry soon found himself in St. Mungos.

The healers quickly went to work to heal the damage done to the body. They removed the shards of glass from the eyes, repaired the iris as good as possible (trapping a few drops of blood in the process, adding a few rust-red sprinkles to the otherwise pure green of the eyes) healed the lens and retina (removing the near-sightedness as they went along), mended the broken nose, restored the scrapped of skin, tried their best to restore the discoloration of skin on the right side of the face (only to wonder why the white skin seemed to refuse treatment) and healed a few bruises. Last they used a few potions to heal internal damages and malnourishment before renervating the young lady.

The „lady" was not happy to find out that „she" had somehow ended up in the hospital. „Her" mood also most certainly did not improve when she remembered what had happened, nor did it when she saw her reflection in a mirror for the first time.

„As you can see, we were able to restore your skin, but for some reason we weren't able to repair this weird discolouration on the side of your face and your forehead - we assume that this is either the result of magical scarring, for example from magical fire, or a malfunctioning appearance-altering potion. We had to flush out all potions out of your system before giving you blood-replenishing potion and some other potions, so it could be you had those before and it's nothing unexpected for you. If it's something new we can probably heal it with a bit of surgery or precision magic, but since that's only for appearance and nothing life-threatening I'm afraid that's not covered by the basic health funding. Other than that we also noticed that..."

„AAAAAAHHH!"

The nurse jumped back at the unexpected scream, but quickly caught herself and returned to her professional facial expression.

„What's the matter? Do you feel uncomfortable? This could be..."

„I got boobs!"

„Oh. Oh yes, we did detect a bit of malnourishment and gave you a potion for that, which could help with your overall growth, though it normally shouldn't take effects this quickly. Could it possibly..."

Harry blinked a few times, not really listening to the nurse at all. Only now his brain was catching up to what the events of the past few hours (?) really meant. He had died, but he wasn't dead. He apparently had a horcrux. And judging from the lack of time-turner around his neck, it was apparently somewhere else. And since he had somehow teleported face-first into the dirt after dying, it was likely that the horcrux was somewhere in this area. That could be problematic.

„Ah, excuse me...", he interrupted the rambling of the healer in the background.

„Yes?"

„Do you... errm... How did I end up in the hospital? I'm not certain what actually happened..."

The healer paused for a bit before continuing. „A man brought you in, after he found you collapsed in Knockturn alley. Apart from the possible magical scarring we only found normal wounds of non-magical origin. If you don't remember we can't be 100% certain, but we assume you simply ran and stumbled over something and fell unluckily. Of course when we heard where you've been found we did check for other evidence of deliberate use of force, or hints towards sexual assault, but we couldn't find any of that."

The last sentence she said with what Harry assumed to be an encouraging smile, but since Harry more or less knew what had happened, he hadn't worried about the possibility of rape anyway. Not that the thought had entered his mind anyway, he hadn't fully switched over to thinking about himself in a female body yet, so the possibility seemed absurd to him at first glance.

„Oh... Okay... Yes, that seems about right."

The nurse looked really relieved after hearing this.

„So... umm... does that mean I can leave now?"

The nurse took a look at Harry's files for one last time before answering.

„Yes, the damages all were pretty easy to fix, so I don't see any reason to keep you here any longer. Do you know how to find the floo?"

Harry simply nodded, stood up and left the room. He was relieved that this whole affair had worked without any bigger problems, like them asking him who he was. He really didn't want to mention that he was Harry Potter, because that would only lead to more gossip in the newspapers over why the Boy-who-lived/-killed-Voldemort was running around polyjuiced as a little girl. And for the alternative, which was to quickly come up with an alias, he wasn't creative enough. He could obviously use the name of a classmate, but that could lead to embarrassment for them if they showed up in the hospital and noticed someone had used their name. And simply inventing a new name would most likely end with him having a name so stupid, that he'd end up laughing every time someone tried to call him by it. No, knowing himself he'd probably look around the room in panic and string together the first few words he read somewhere, which was even worse than coming up with a new name.

Good thing polyjuice-potion always wore off after an hour, right? No need to worry that the potion had already left his system somehow and he was still was stuck in this changed body and would need to adapt to this eventually. Haha, that thought was laughable.

Harry reached the floo-area of the hospital, happy to escape without being confronted with any of these problems. A green flash of fire later he stood in was back in his house. And the thick dust that covered every single surface in the house finally drove home the point that something had seriously gone wrong.


	2. Chapter 2, 3

_**[Chapter 2]**_ _Well, that never happened before._

* * *

Harry wanted to scream in frustration about all the shit that kept happening to him at every opportunity, and he had already opened his mouth to make his feelings heard, but that only resulted in dust falling into his throat, making him cough and spit around uncontrollably. In a chain reaction this only whirled around even more dust, making him sneeze. All in all it was pretty uncomfortable, and it took him several tries to get the bubblehead-charm up to prevent more dust from reaching his face.

One could say many things about Harry Potter, and not many would argue otherwise if you decided to call him dense, but he wasn't that dense. Dying during/after a ritual which had accidentally thrown a time-turner into the equation, only to come back to find your own home covered in dust? Pretty damn obvious that he hadn't been out for only a few minutes as previously thought. Now if he only knew how long he had been missing, and in which direction of time.

Okay, sitting around in a dusty house would do him no good, the only way now was forward, and forward in this case meant towards the nearest newspaper-stand to buy a daily prophet to get the date.

Or maybe through some rooms of the house to find a bit of money to be able to afford the newspaper, it wasn't like he was always running around with his pockets filled with money (and as long as the polyjuice hadn't worn off there was little chance of him getting access to his Gringotts vault - if that even still/already existed). A few cleaning-charms left the living room dust-free enough to search without constantly sneezing.

A few minutes later he had found enough change to buy himself a copy of the daily prophet as well as a warm dinner.

In Diagon Alley he immediately bought a copy of the daily prophet, and a few seconds later a few wizards turned around when young girl started to swear loudly about something she read in the paper (momentarily raising the amount of papers bought in this particular newsstand).

September the 7th, 1981.

Harry was back in 1981. He didn't like it.

„Fuck, why does this always keep happening."

The dinner which he later bought didn't really taste like anything, and if it did, Harry hadn't noticed it, too focused on his inner thoughts. What did this situation mean for him? How had things ended up like this? Would he now forever stay in the body of a girl? How could he turn back? How could he travel back into the future? What would he do if traveling back wasn't possible?

As difficult and diverse those questions appeared on first glance, on second glance they really weren't.

Why this had happened? Obvious, he was Harry Potter, that's all the explanation needed for weird shit to happen. Would he forever be trapped in this new body? Most likely, he was Harry Potter, that's all the explanation that was needed for weird shit to happen to him. How could he turn back? Well, temporarily probably using polyjuice. Permanently? With his look probably only using long-term exposure to potions that hurt more than the cruciatus. How could he travel back into the future? Probably using the time-turner, assuming he could find it. And that was assuming that he had reason to go back to the future, which he really didn't. „Shit is fucked" as the poets of the time used to say, meaning that the whole country had succumbed to the leadership of the pureblood supremacy, there really wasn't any reason for him to go back to that particular shithole that was the future.

So, what did the situation mean for him?

It pretty much meant that he was stuck here for the time being, and that there was nothing he could or would do about it.

Next question: If all of his old life-goals were out of the window (most of them being „life another day without getting a life-sentence in Azkaban for blowing up a politician who pushed for even fewer rights for muggleborns"), what should his new goals in life be?

The most obvious one would be to fix everything that had gone wrong the first time around. That was pretty much a no-brainer. But since he already knew the location of all horcruxes and the identities for most secret supporters of Voldemort, how long could this really take? One hour, two?

Apart from this he really couldn't think of anything that he would consider worthy living for. That might sound really depressing from an outside perspective, but from Harry's perspective that was just like it had always been. Just go with the flow, existing just for the sake of existing had worked just fine so far.

And with that Harry returned to his home (one of the many the Potters had owned) and started to prepare to fulfill his life goal.

* * *

 _ **[Chapter 3]** Goals in life_

26 hours later Harry lay down in his bed and slowly drifted to sleep, exhausted by all the stress the day had brought to him.

It had turned out that his first estimation for 2 to 3 hours for fixing all of Magical Britains future problems had been too optimistic, it had taken him a whole day instead.

Voldemorts horcruxes were destroyed, all secret supporters of his ideals had died by falling down some stairs (which hadn't been easy, since some of his supporters lived in apartments with only one floor, so he had to get creative there, conjuring ladders to fall down from) and several secret vaults for bribery and other political favors had mysteriously disappeared.

The authors of various newspapers were irritated that this adventure hadn't stretched over multiple days or weeks with many twists, since it would increase the sales dramatically, but Harry hadn't felt like rehashing something he had done way too often already. And yes, he considered once as „way too often".

The only horcrux that was left obviously was behind the scar of his younger self, who apparently existed in his world as well, at least if you believed the papers.

He didn't worry too much about that though, since he had gotten rid of it the first time around as well.

No, the horcrux he was thinking about the most was the ravenclaws diadem. Getting rid of this one had meant he had to sneak into Hogwarts using one of the many secret passages, and it had been quite nostalgic for him.

The old walls, the smell, the moving stairs - every single little thing had triggered an emotional reaction from him, throwing him back into a time where everything was easier. Not easy, but easier. Where people disliked you just because they disliked you, and not because of what you stood for. Where friendships were formed simply because one felt comfortable around another, and not for political reasons. Where detentions, loss of points and a few insane and/or evil teachers were all you had to worry about on a day-to-day basis, not torture, death or things even worse.

Harry smiled. Apart from the troll, Voldemort-possessed Quirrell, that fucking fraud teacher, having to worry about being killed by a mass-murderer (who should, if the documents had reached Amalia Bones, soon get out of Azkaban and be reunited with this world's Harry), having to take part in some hunger games bullshit, being tortured by a teacher and having to flee after the headmaster was killed, Hogwarts had been quite the experience, and all in all a time of his life he fondly remembered.

And the longer he thought about it, the more certain he became: He had never, in all of his life, been as happy as he had been at Hogwarts. Everything else had been a nightmare. His time at the Dursleys had been filled with abuse, his time at the auror forces overshadowed by the expectations for him to fix everything by himself, his love life (or lack thereof) had been poisoned by the many titles bestowed upon him, his unwanted position as important politician had been forced upon him, where he had once again felt like the puppet to the plans and desires of other people.

And in the end he decided that he had earned to take a break from all those things for a change. To leave the politics to the politicians, to leave the criminal-hunting to the aurors, to leave the fame to Harry, to leave the Dursleys to themselves, to leave everything behind - and return to the place where he once had been happy:

Harry Potter would return to Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 4

_**[Chapter 4]** Preparations_

* * *

Harry had always been an impulsive person, but that didn't mean he couldn't plan ahead if the opportunity presented itself. And in this case the start of the next year at Hogwarts was still months away.

Obviously he couldn't return as Harry Potter - that spot was already taken, and he didn't feel like taking it even if it was available anyway.

The whole changed body affair was a bit confusing at first, but Harry was nothing if not adaptable. The first thing he did was to think of a new name. This task also turned out to be a lot harder than one would expect. For one he had to make sure that his new name didn't sound stupid, since he'd probably spend a relatively long time living with it. It would have to sound like a real name, but it couldn't be the name of another person, to prevent anyone from asking for relations or other uncomfortable questions. The worst thing however was the conditioning - how would he handle having to react to a new name? The most obvious choice would be a name with similar sound, as it would allow him to play off instances where he reacted to the other Harry being called. At the same time it couldn't be too similar, or people would maybe get suspicious.

First Harry had thought about using a combination of the names of friends of his parents, but most of these people existed in this world as well or were still remembered, so he quickly discarded this stupid train of thought.

The next idea he simply stole from Voldemort: Anagrams would allow him to give his name a meaning, without being obvious about it. He also dismissed this idea, after a few hours all anagrams he had come up with were pretty horrible. His list looked a little like this:

 _„Harry Potter:_

 _Throat Pryer (too sexual)_

 _Try to rape hr (definitely not)_

 _Harry James Potter:_

 _The Terror Pyjamas (maybe if I become a dark lord)_

 _Her major tapestry (that doesn't even make any sense)_

 _Lily Evans:_

 _Sin Valley (no, just no)_

 _Lily Potter nee Evans:_

 _Polyester Valentine (what am I, a sex-doll?)_

 _No penetrative yells (seriously, what's up with all this sexual innuendo in my parent's names?)_

 _Penetrates evil only (maybe if I become a sexual dark lord)_

 _Tolerates evil penny (brain, what the fuck are you doing?)_

 _Please entr violently (...)_

 _Harry Potter time-travels:_

 _Pervert - try to list a harem (okay, now I'm 90% sure my subconsciousness is mocking me)"_

In the end he decided that he was too terrible with anagrams to even think continuing down this path, so instead he chose to go by the name of „Maryam Blackwood". The name was so different from his old name that noone would get suspicious, yet „Maryam" could be shortened to „Mary", which sounded similar enough to „Harry" for him to react to it. „Blackwood" didn't have that deep of a meaning behind it, Harry had simply taken the black wood of the table he had scribbled all the anagrams on as inspiration.

The next thing was a new backstory. He invented a few relatives, names for them, a few character-traits and how they would interact and based on this information which of these relatives he liked and disliked. Then a reason for why no one could meet them (which was easy enough: they were muggles and had died in a tragic work-related accident. Harry considered blaming the death eaters, but this might paint a target on his back.).

Next was more information about him... herself. What kind of person was Maryam Blackwood? He decided to stick as close to the truth as possible, which meant that she would like flying on brooms (maybe not quidditch, or at least not the position as seeker), liked sweets, liked pranks to a certain degree, liked things to be neat and tidy (a trait which he had only learned to appreciate when his work had required him to always be ready to immediately change locations, which meant things had be prepared for fast travel at all times), disliked homework (Hermione had not been able to hammer this one into his brain - he liked learning stuff for learning stuff's sake, but not so that he could later recite the details.) and loved comfortable silence (as opposed to the stressful silence which often filled the halls of the wizengamot).

Then there was the question of education. His new body looked like it belonged to a 13 or 14 year old girl - he couldn't simply start at Hogwarts, he'd have to transfer there. He didn't however possess any proof that he had visited any other school before, which would be problematic. He wasn't familiar enough with the school-system to know whether any certificates were necessary, nor did he know many magical schools to begin with, and as a muggleborn the excuse of being home-schooled looked awfully suspicious.

In the end he decided to combine the backstory of his parents with his educational one: the story of how his parents had decided to send him to Beauxbatons, but before they had been able to get him officially registered for the school, the tragical accident had happened. Bureaucracy had made the whole affair even worse, leaving her trapped in France without visa. The investigation on what to do with her had taken so long that she hadn't been able to attend Beauxbatons, instead she had received a tutor for the transition-period, who taught her everything she knew (conveniently also explaining why she couldn't speak French).

Now all that was left to do was to sell a few items from the potter-home to get enough money to buy everything he needed for school and to open a vault of his own at Gringotts. He knew that he was technically stealing from his alternative self, but he also knew that if this other self ever found out how much pain he had saved him in the long run, he'd get as much monetary compensation from him as he wanted to, so he didn't feel guilty about it.


	4. Chapter 5

**_[Chapter 5]_** _Going to Hogwarts?_

* * *

Denied. Harry "that's not my name any longer" Potter had expected many things, but this wasn't one of them. The parchment in front of him told him in not uncertain terms that his request for a new vault at Gringotts had been checked, and in the end denied.

The reason: insufficient proof of identity.

Harry had always thought that the goblins were greedy assholes who would let anything pass with the correct amount of bribes, a bit of threatening and sufficient knowledge of the legal loopholes.

And he wasn't wrong.

It was just that he did not have the amount of money necessary to bribe his way through: allowing someone to set up a vault without all the necessary identification and papers was simply too risky for the goblins to bother – at least for the amount of money he could currently offer.

He, in the body of this rather young girl with a name that was clearly not from an important family, was also not all that scary.

And while he had dealt with laws in his old time, being the last Potter and therefore having a seat in the Wizengamot and all, his understanding was more on the side of social issues and the parts of the criminal code relevant for auror work.

While all of these things might have had part in his request being denied, he was also rather sure that a small mishap on his part might have caused the goblins to become irritated with him: In his attempt to show respect towards the goblins, he had greeted Griphook by his name, only to find out that it wasn't actually him. Shortly after 'her' request had been stamped by said goblin, and Harry might have heard a muttered 'racist little shit' at one point.

"That… could've worked better." he thought to himself as he read over the text once again, before setting it aflame.

Now that he thought about it, things could really have worked better – a lot better in fact. Because without a vault he faced another problem: He wouldn't be able to pay tuition for Hogwarts. He could afford it, at least the first year there. He'd eventually have to find a summer job or something to pay the remaining time, but without a way to store his money or make transactions (he seriously doubted they would just accept hi… her showing up and giving them the tuition in cash), he couldn't think of a way to actually attend Hogwarts.

He could maybe find a way to open a vault in some other bank in another country, but that would take even more time, would possibly need even more papers and identification (which he still didn't have), and would most likely not happen before the start of the year.

No, if he wanted to attend Hogwarts, he'd have to do that next year instead.

A whole year to prepare? A pessimist would say wasted time. An optimist would say an opportunity to prepare even better and further establish his new identity in this world.

Harry Potter said neither of these things, instead he screamed in agony as he stubbed his toe in the attempt to angrily kick a stone.


End file.
